The Journey Home and Jealousy
by River Eagle
Summary: Two different one shots that are rated 'M' that fit into my 'verse of "Donnabelle". Female Bilbo. The Journey Home is set when she is 22, and Jealousy is about two years after the Battle of the Five Armies.
1. The Journey Home

_**AN:**_ **~Khuzdul~** _= Dwarven spoken language_

 _*The words to the song are from "Sweeney Todd"s song 'Not while I'm around'_

 _"Azanulbizar" refers to the battle for Moria, where Thorin lost most of his close kin, including Frerin._

 _Tissue warning!_

 _Summary: On the journey back to the Shire after their release from their master, Donnabelle "Bilbo" Baggins and Frerin stop for the night on the northern plains of Rohan when they are met by four men..._

 **The Journey Home**

Frérin looked down at the small lass that had become in every way his little sister and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The two of them had been free from their master for two years, and he was in the process of taking her back to the Shire. (Or, he thought more likely, headed to the Blue Mountains where his family was.) They were currently camped on the south-western borders of Rohan, headed toward the gap of Rohan and the Misty Mountains.

"Nadad," Donnabelle timidly said as she settled her head on his should. Frérin hummed in response. "Will I ever get to see the Shire again?"

"One day," he answered. "Very soon."

"How can you be sure?" she asked.

"Because, namadith, we were able to secure our freedom after sixteen years. We are free to choose where we go." He paused and frowned. Shifting slightly, he looked down at the hobbit relaxing against him. "What's brought this on?"

"I don't know if I want to go back. Not if you're gonna leave me."

"Oh, namadith, I won't leave you."

"But… what about your family? What about Thorin and Dís and Balin and Dwalin? Don't you want to see them again?"

"One day, I will. But not without you, if you don't want me to go," the dwarf responded. Frérin laid his head on top of his little sister's as his thoughts were drawn back to his long life as a slave. Though he missed his brother, sister and cousins, most (if not all) of them would assume he had perished in the battle of Azanulbizar. Like his grandfather and Fundin. And he had had 126 years to deal with the fact that they probably were _not_ expecting him home. Alive that was.

Because, though he hated to admit it, if his family had known he was alive and was a slave, they would have hunted for him all over Middle Earth.

"I'm scared of what my family will do to me once we get back to the Shire," Donnabelle admitted suddenly, drawing Frérin out of his thoughts.

He drew her tighter to him and he began to sing a song he'd learnt years before. **~Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around/ nothing's gonna harm you, no ma'am, not while I'm around./ Demons are prowling, everywhere, nowadays/I'll send 'em howling, I don't care/I've got ways.~***

Donnabelle giggled and buried her face into his chest. Frérin stopped singing as he too, began laughing. "You're hopeless, nadad." But she knew that he meant well. Both knew that he'd promised her years before that he would protect her from the anger of their master, but he couldn't. It had been a youthful hope, nothing more. "But I guess your point still stands: you're going to protect me while you can."

He planted a kiss on her forehead. "Yes, namadith. I'll protect you. To my death if I need to."

"Please don't die on me, nadad," Donnabelle whispered. "I don't know what I'll do without you."

"You're strong, Donnabelle. Stronger than you give yourself credit for."

She pushed herself away from him and scooted away. "No, I'm not! I'm just a useless, weak, had been slave!"

"Emphasise on the 'had been'," Frérin said calmly.

"Don't turn this into a pep talk! I don't need one of those!"

The dwarf stood and crossed his arm. "And what do you need, young lady?"

Donnabelle opened her mouth and closed it again. "I want everything to be better. What it would have been like if Mama and Papa had raised me in the Shire. I don't want to feel like I'm a nobody."

Frérin licked his lips, wondering how he was going to get the hobbit to calm down. His eyes flickered over her face and he knew that whatever was truly troubling the lass was more than just her fear of returning to the Shire. He'd learnt early on when he dealt with any of Donnabelle's 'tantrums', her ability to hold onto specific features, such as eye colour and hair differentials (sometimes it was hair length, other times it was colour or it was like it was reacting to wind where there was not a drop of wind in the vicinity), fluctuated. And right now, her eye colour was cycling through a deep blue, a stormy green and even a dark brown. The first time he'd seen her change her features (she'd been six at the time), he'd nearly had a heart attack.

But he'd grown used to it, and had even helped her learn to control her abilities as much as he could. Before he could say something to calm the infuriated hobbit down, he heard another voice just outside the circle of their camp.

"Lookie, lookie. What do we have here? A dwarf and… _what is_ that?" A man, taller than their master, came into the firelight. Three others joined him.

Frérin growled low in his throat, stepping in front of Donnabelle to protect her. He wished that he had more than the small knife on his person to protect the pair of them.

"What do you think you can do against four of us?"

"Plenty," Frérin said, drawing the small knife that was more for hunting than for fighting. "You're not getting my sister, filth!"

"Oh, aren't we? How can that unnatural thing be your sister?" The man drew his sword and laughed at the tiny thing that was held by Frérin. "Do you know what we're going to do, dwarf? We're going to tie you up, just so you can watch as we take her."

Donnabelle paled, just as Frérin did. They were going to do _what_ to her? "Mizim! Run!" Frérin called out as he ducked under the first swing of the horse lord's swing.

And she tried desperately to do what her brother asked. She tried running, only to be stopped by one of the other horse masters. So she did what she'd been taught to do: not struggle. Things always went better for her if she didn't struggle against any of the master's punishments. The man forced her to turn and watch as Frérin fought four against one. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as the men managed to disarm her brother and then smile nastily as they ran him through with their blade.

Frérin fell to the ground as soon as the blade was removed, but he wasn't dead yet. It would be minutes or even longer before he would fall unconscious and finally pass on.

That got Donnabelle fighting to escape and she was struggling to remember any of the moves that Frérin had taught her. But her mind was shutting down as a response to seeing her brother fatally wounded for her honour. Oh, she knew that they had wounded him enough that no matter what she tried, he would still die. But his death would be slow and oh so painful, for he still was conscious enough to (be forced to) watch what was about to happen.

"I always liked them feisty," the leader of the horsemen said as he wiped his sword on the ground and sheathed it. He would clean it properly after he and his men had their little fun with the 'unnatural' creature. His hands went to his fastener on his trousers and pulled himself out. Looking over at the prone dwarf on the ground, he gave Frérin a leer as he began to work. It wasn't long before the leader was bearing down on Donnabelle, leaking and ready to breach her. "Here, let me get those clothes of that unnatural creature." And instead of being gentle, the man tore at her garments, especially those that covered her lower body.

Donnabelle tried kicking, or moving away in any way, but the grip of the men was too strong for her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she kept murmuring 'no' over and over in Khuzdul. There was nothing really that she could do as the man began fondling her in the most intimate of ways. She bit at the man that covered her mouth as she began getting more vocal in her protests.

"Shut the unnatural thing up. She's ruining the moment."

It was then that the four men heard a roar and abruptly a giant black bear was in their midst, pulling the men off from Donnabelle, and from Frérin.

The hobbit wasn't sure of what happened next. Her vision was blurred with tears and shame. But to her credit, her first thoughts when her breathing got somewhat under control was for Frérin. She dragged herself to his body and took a hold of his collar. "Nadad?" she whispered brokenly.

"Namadith," Frérin choked out. "Don't let them control your future. Wasn't… your fault. Try… try for.. forgive them, mizim." The dwarf's eyes unfocused as he tried looking at the figure over, trying to remember his sister's face once more. She was trying so hard to be strong for him and not let her tears fall. He reached up his left hand and brushed her cheek briefly before he lost his strength. "Men lananubukhs menu."

Donnabelle reached for his hand and pulled it to her face. She watched as the light in his eyes faded and it was only then that she let her tears fall. Pressing his hand to her cheek, she leant forward and pressed her forehead against his. "Men lananubukhs menu, nadad," she said brokenly.

She remained at his side all night, not even realising that she was half naked, or that there was a giant bear guarding her all night. She wasn't aware of the drop in the temperature. She didn't notice when the fire died out.

It was only at first light that she became aware of the eight-foot man that had watched over her and her brother's body all night. He gave her a nod and introduced himself as Beorn. Then he offered her protection on her way home to the Shire. She only accepted his offer when he helped her set up a funeral pyre and get Frérin ready for his final send-off.

It would be weeks later, on the outskirts of the Shire, that she would thank Beorn for all of his help in burning Frérin's body and bringing his gear with them.

 _ **AN:**_ _Khuzdul used in this:_

 _"Nadad" translates as "brother"_

 _"Namadith" translates as "little sister"_

 _"Mizim" translates as "gem"_

 _"Men lananubukhs menu" translates as "I love you" as if you were saying it to a close family member, not a lover._

 _Translations provided by Calenithlon_

 _The funeral rites in this passage are in reference to the battle of Azanulbizar, where the dead were too many for the dwarves to carry with them, so the dwarves stripped their fallen kin of all their battle gear and burned the bodies._


	2. Jealousy

**Jealousy**

Thorin was jealous. He did not mean to be. Because, really, he had no reason to be jealous. And he felt that he could not bring up his feelings with his wife for he felt that she would surely laugh at him. Because, really, what right did he have to say he was jealous of his own _daughter_?

It had been a month since he and Donnabelle had welcomed their precious little treasure into the world, and it seemed (at least to Thorin's mind) that Florís spent more time curled up in her mother's arms than her father did. By rights, that was first and foremost _his_ place. Yet it seemed that his place in Donnabelle's arms was no longer his.

But still, he couldn't stop a smile from appearing on his face as he leaned on the doorframe that led to the private chambers he shared with Donnabelle, and now Florís. Florís was nestled against her mother's breast, having her latest meal. Donnabelle, his precious wife, was humming softly the same lullaby his own mother had sung to him, Frérin and Dís when they had been babes in her arms. Her attention was on the child she was nursing, a soft smile on her face.

It never ceased to amaze Thorin of the two gifts he had been given. After the battle for the mountain, he never thought he would get a chance to see Donnabelle feed a child that was a perfect combination of them. What had been even more amazing was that their first child had been a little princess.

Donnabelle lifted their daughter to her shoulder, where a spit cloth had been laid. She ran her hand up and down the tiny girl's back for a bit before the child brought up the air that always seemed to go down with any meal she had. "There we go," the hobbit said softly, rocking the babe gently. She placed a kiss against the light smattering of hair on the baby's head and raised her eyes. Thorin gave her a contented smile, which she returned. Then she beckoned him to her. The dwarf was happy to oblige and he sat beside her and their daughter on their bed. "Here," she said and handed Florís to him. "Florís needs her adad." Thorin happily took their daughter from his wife and settled the tiny thing in his arms. He didn't even notice Donnabelle leave the bed to use the facilities. He didn't even hear her comment, "After you put her to bed, you're going to tell me why you're jealous."

That was, until he heard her say he was jealous. He looked up from the precious bundle in his arms. "I'm not jealous!"

"Hmmm."

Thorin returned his attention to his little girl. "I'm not, my mizimith." The tiny child yawned and flailed her arms around. He couldn't help but grin as he stroked her soft cheek and then offer her his finger to hold. Florís gripped his pinkie finger tight and pulled it to her chest. Her head turned slightly in toward his chest. Thorin felt his heart constrict as he lay his hand over his daughter's heart. He knew she'd captured a piece of his own when he first met her, and he wouldn't want it back. And he couldn't blame the tiny girl for wanting all of her mother's attention either.

If he could, he'd also demand all of Donnabelle's attention.

He snorted as he realised his wife was right. He _was_ jealous. Florís blinked her blue eyes sleepily and yawned once more. Thorin couldn't help but yawn himself. "Your amad's right. I'm jealous, precious girl. You get all this time with your amad. I rarely see her without you. And sometimes I wish it was me curled up in her arms and not you. I wouldn't want you gone, mizimith. You're too perfect for me to ever let go now. But I miss my time with your amad. When it's just her and me."

The dwarven king sighed and ran his fingers over his daughter's cheek. Her little mouth opened and closed. He could see she was almost asleep, and that tugged on his heart even more. It was a rare opportunity for him to have his daughter fall asleep on him. She was usually asleep when he got back from his kingly duties or she was busy feeding in Donnabelle's arms and fell asleep before she finished, so he never really got a chance to hold her when she was awake. "I can't help think of what it would be like… to be you. I watch, you know. When you have your meals. It always amazes me when your amad feeds you and I wonder what it tastes like. It must be good if you keep asking for more."

He wasn't surprised when Florís didn't answer. Looking down, his face lit up with a soft smile. Florís was fast asleep, still gripping his finger tightly in her hand. And the dwarf couldn't help but feel blessed at the trust the small treasure had in him. Cradling her head, he lifted her up so he could plant a kiss on her forehead.

In one fluid motion, Thorin stood from the bed and moved to the cradle set up in the bedchamber he shared with Donnabelle. He ever so gently laid his sleeping daughter in it, making sure her feet touched the bedding first. The last thing he placed down was her head. Gathering the soft, Durin blue baby blanket, the father tucked it in around his daughter.

If he could, he would watch her sleep all day.

"Should I be jealous?" Donnabelle asked; there was a teasing note in her voice. Thorin turned to look at the hobbit coming to join him. He shook his head and returned his attention to his daughter. "You know, I don't mind sharing you with her."

Donnabelle wrapped her arms around his waist and Thorin planted a kiss on her forehead. He shifted his arm so he could wrap it around her. "How did I get so lucky?" he asked her softly. "I have an amazing wife and our daughter is the most perfect little thing I could have asked for."

"Even when you're jealous of the amount of time she spends with me?"

A rosy pink crept over Thorin's cheeks. "You heard that?"

"Uh-huh. I figured you'd tell her. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

Donnabelle smiled up at him and took a hold of his hand. She led him to the fireplace in their room. "You're going to get a fire going and then change into something more comfortable. I'm going to get a snack and a drink for me. Then we're going to sit in front of the fire and you're going to enjoy being curled up in my arms. I'm going to enjoy running my hands through your hair, and we're going to relax. And if you want, there's something I'm curious about."

He smiled and bent his head down. She met him halfway and planted an opened mouth kiss on his lips. Pulling away, she cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her palm. Before she could pull it away, he planted a kiss on the base.

"Don't be long," he whispered and stole another kiss from her lips.

"I won't," she returned. Her smile grew as he yawned and turned to attend to the fire. She disappeared into their living area to gather together a snack for herself and returned to see Thorin stretched out on the rug in front of the fire. He had stripped down to his sleep shorts and had grabbed one of the softer, thicker furs off their bed. A pile of cushions had been set up beside him and he'd placed a small table on the far side of it.

He looked up as she reentered the room and smiled at her. He was looking forward to the time he would spend in her arms. Placing the food and drink down on the small table, Donnabelle sat down and made herself comfortable against the cushions. She was half reclining on them, but still semi-upright. Taking up one of the stray cushions, she placed it in her lap. Before she had even settled the cushion down, Thorin was there, ready to lay his head down.

"Eager, are we?" she asked, and he 'hmmm'ed. He shifted to get himself comfortable with his head in her lap. She placed her hand on his chest. Peeking open one of his eyes, he looked up at her.

"Where's…?" he began before she started combing her fingers through the hair at his temples. He let out a purr of contentment and moved his head so he could bury his nose into her stomach.

Neither really spoke for the next little while, both content to be close together. Thorin was almost drifting off when Donnabelle spoke up. "I've always been curious about something. And from what I heard you tell our daughter, so have you."

He owlishly looked up at her. "Hmmm?"

"You want to know what our daughter's meals taste like." He blinked further and was about to sit up when he felt a firm pressure on his chest. Her hand was still over his heart and was keeping him lying half on top of her. She had her tongue caught between her teeth and she stopped running her hand through his hair. "Once, you told me you wanted what your parents had. Well, I do too. I want to have the closeness Mama and Papa had."

Thorin's gaze fixed on his wife's face. She wasn't looking at him, yet she wasn't acting as though she was repulsed by his desire either.

"I have few memories of my parents together," she continued, resuming her gentle combing. "The only clear memory I have of my father was on a night similar to this. I found my parents in the living area of Bag End. Just like this: sitting together before the fire. It was the end of spring, and it was the last time the fire was lit before the fullness of summer set in. I had a bad dream and went to seek comfort from Papa. Mama was stroking Papa's hair and he was lying curled around her. I couldn't see what he was doing, but I knew he had his face buried in Mama's chest.

"I shared the memory with Mama after… after I got back and she told me that the memory was something that she cherished. Papa had been jealous of the time I spent with her and she suggested that in the evenings, especially when I was just a babe, he should spend them curled up in her arms. Eventually, he tried her milk and they both liked the intimacy it gave them. It helped them grow closer, and as a child, it made me feel safe to know that they loved each other so much they were willing to try anything at least once to keep their love alive."

Thorin reached up and cupped her cheek with his callused left hand. She leaned into it. "I miss them, Thorin." He didn't say anything, just continued to rub her cheek with his thumb. "After… after I was taken, Mama said that their nightly ritual became a great source of comfort to the pair of them. Especially when they knew they would never have any other children but me."

He rolled onto his side and shifted closer to her. His right arm snaked around her waist and he buried his nose into her ribs. "What can I do?" he asked.

She gently pushed him away from her ribcage and guided his face up to her breasts. "I want you to bring me comfort. Like what my mama and papa did for each other all those years ago."

And Thorin couldn't deny his amrâlimê anything. He felt his heart break for his precious hobbit. A lump formed in his throat when she exposed herself to his gaze. He lifted his eyes up to her to make sure that it was truly fine for him to try and to see if it was what she wanted from him. Slowly, he leaned forward, wrapped his lips around her nipple, and began gently biting. Nothing happened, except her wince to let him know that she did not appreciate the biting. He frowned slightly and tried again. This time, just his lips and tongue grazed her skin and formed a gentle suction around her nipple. He was rewarded with the rich taste of her milk hitting his tongue. He felt her right arm fall from his hair to run along his shoulder blades to help support his weight against her. She pulled her left hand up and began running that through his hair.

Once he had his first taste of her, he knew he'd be back for more. He found it oddly comforting to suckle at her breast without the intent to take it any further than that.

She stopped trembling soon after he began feeding from her. She finally understood what her mother meant when she had said that it was a source of comfort for her when she was troubled by something.

Though neither spoke again that night, they knew that this new form of comfort was something they would enjoy many times in the future. Neither knew when they drifted off in front of the fire. Nor who had found them wrapped up in each other's arms during the night. But they knew someone (most likely Dís) had found them because when they woke, they were both wrapped in the fur Thorin had taken from their bed and their daughter was no longer in their bedchamber with them.

 _ **AN:**_ _Khuzdul used:_

 _Mizimith = little gem_

 _Amad = mother_

 _Amrâlimê = my love_

 _Adad = father_


End file.
